Hakan Severin (13 page)

The color drained from his handsome face. “No…I…am puma,” he managed. “Always. No.”

His anxiety was palpable and Taylor wasn’t sure what to say or do. Was this not how the Pantera shifted? Were they not males or females at all, but always in cat form? Again, on instinct, she leaned in and touched him, offering him some level of comfort. Her hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. Not the kind that burned, but the kind that melted. She felt her insides liquefy, felt her belly tighten.

“You,” he growled softly, his eyes probing her.

“Taylor,” she whispered.

They were close. So close she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. His gaze swept over her face, hesitating when he came to her lips. Taylor swiped at the bottom one with her tongue.

“Human,” he uttered.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He leaned closer, but didn’t touch her. A sense of urgency erupted within Taylor, and she wanted nothing more than to feel this male’s lips on hers. Crushing against her, stealing her breath—

The thought was seized from her mind as a feral snarl burst from the male’s throat. He jerked back, and his nude body stiffened. In seconds, hair began to sprout from his skin. Taylor watched in shock and fascination as the man with the chiseled muscles and beautiful mouth became a glorious golden beast.

Her back to the wall of the tree, heart beating a violent rhythm in her chest, Taylor stared at the animal, mouth open. It stared back. For one moment, she believed she saw him—the male—behind the puma’s silver eyes; his anxiety, his curiosity, his desire. But that look was gone in an instant, and something else had taken its place. Something vicious. Ears flat, teeth bared, he cocked his head to one side.

“We’re supposed to be patrolling,” came a man’s voice outside the tree.

Taylor tried to sit up, but the puma remained where it was.

“I scent human female, Rage.” This time it was a woman’s voice.

“Are you sure?” Rage returned.

“Yes, Lena,” another man put in. “Be sure. You know how he gets when we try to engage him in anything.”

“I know what I smell, Parish,” she said with a snort.

Taylor stared up at the puma. It stared right back at her.
What do we do? What do I do?
she silently asked him.

The man called Parish cursed loudly, then bellowed, “Séverin, do you have a human in your treehouse?”

Séverin
. The name coated her skin like honey. “Is that your name?” she asked him.

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. His ears were pinned back. His entire being was aggressive animal ready to spring.

“I can’t believe you called his place a treehouse,” Lena said dryly. “Bad form, boss.”

“Séverin?” Parish yelled again. “Come out here and talk to us before we have to come in.”

“Talk to us?” Rage put in with a sniff. “He hasn’t uttered a word since he came here, and you expect—”

“No expectation, brother,” Parish cut in. “Just hope. Always hope.” He growled softly. “Dammit. Séverin! Last time I’m saying it—”

Without warning, Séverin turned and barreled through the opening in the cypress.
Shit
! He was going to get into trouble because of her. Maybe even hurt. Taylor was on her feet in an instant, following him. Cool morning air rushed her skin as she hit the doorway and remained.
Holy hell
. Séverin was directly in front of her, just a foot or two away. He was in full fighting stance, ears pinned back, teeth bared—his growl a warning for the three people standing in a semicircle beside the shore of the bayou. No, she corrected herself. Not people. Pantera. They were staring at Séverin, no doubt worried about his sudden show of ferocity. They only looked up when Taylor spoke.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I’m okay.”

Three sets of incredible colored eyes took her in. Taylor glanced at each one in turn, acknowledging them with an encouraging nod. Both the males were tall and dark-haired, and like Séverin, heavily muscled. The woman was about Taylor’s height with straight, shoulder-length red hair and a wicked expression. She spoke first.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Séverin growled and lunged at her.

Lena held her ground, but crouched slightly as if ready for whatever was about to come her way. She glanced at Parish. “What the hell?”

The male with the long dark hair didn’t reply. He was staring intently at Séverin.

“My name’s Taylor,” she called out quickly. Last thing she wanted was a fight. And one she had brought on because of her presence.

“Are you okay?” the male she believed to be Rage asked. “Has he hurt you?”

“No,” she said with feeling.

Parish, who seemed to be the leader of the group, narrowed his fierce gold gaze on Séverin. “This is not part of your agreement with Raphael.”

Raphael?
Taylor’s heart kicked.
So he knows the male I sought?

Séverin bared his teeth at the male in the sort of universal symbol for
fuck off and die
.

The male shook his head with irritation, then turned his attention to Taylor. “My name is Parish. I’m the leader of the Hunters in the Wildlands. What are you doing here? We do not allow humans on our land without invitation. Are you lost? Are you a reporter? Or were you lured here?” His eyes once again flickered toward Séverin who was crouched and ready to spring.

“No, no,” she said rapidly. “I’m not here for a story…and I came here by myself.” Oh, how did she start this? She turned to the female. Lena. “I need help. A place to stay. Protection.”

“Protection?” the female repeated. “Someone outside wishes to harm you?”

Taylor nodded.

“We don’t protect humans,” Rage said, his tone rigid. “You are the ones trying to destroy us.”

Taylor knew some of what was happening between her world and this newly-found Wildlands. There was fear, ignorance, even a desire to capitalize on the shifters’ existence. But she wasn’t after any of that.

The leader stepped forward, then stopped when Séverin sprang at him, landing just a few feet away. “Taylor,” he began. “I appreciate your quest, sympathize with it even, but we don’t offer protection here. We have humans who live among us, yes, but they are mates only.”

The words weren’t something she wasn’t expecting. Why would they want her here? Why would they want to open it up to anyone who wasn’t their kind or their mates? But she had to try.

She swallowed hard, nodded. “I understand. I really do. Perhaps if I could speak to Rapahel…”

Rage interrupted. “How do you know Raphael?” he demanded, then looked to Parish. “Goddess! She could be the enemy. Wrapped up in a poor little beautiful human in trouble package. That would be clever. She could be sent in to infiltrate. Find out our secrets.”

“I’m not,” Taylor insisted. “I swear. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I only want to stop someone from hurting me.”

Lena stepped forward. “Is it a male?”

Taylor nodded. “An ex.”

“Who doesn’t want to be an ex?”

“Yes. And I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“We’re not a fucking halfway house!” Rage erupted. His violet eyes settled on Séverin. “Send her back where she came from.”

Séverin snarled.

“Fine,” the male said tightly. “I’ll do it myself.”

Rage only managed to take a few steps before Séverin was on him, canines sinking into flesh.

***

Séverin’s eyes bolted open. Wet, green earth below. Sun overhead. Inside, his organs were still asleep. But he shouldn’t be sleeping. He should be hunting. But for what? What? Who… He blinked.

Woman.

Human woman.

My woman.

A low growl rumbled at the back of his throat.
Remember
. They had drugged him. His cat. Parish. Lena. Rage. Rage wanted to take the woman from him. Out of the Wildlands. Hadn’t he wanted that, too? No…not today. She had touched him today. Her fingers on his skin were soothing. He had felt…that was all—he had felt.

He rolled to his belly and pushed to his feet. The sun was too bright. He liked the rain, the clouds. They brought the woman.

Woman
.

Eyes up, he looked around. Where was she? He padded into the nest. Scent lingering, but starting to fade.

She is gone
.

A deep, feral snarl erupted from his throat and he turned slowly around. They took her from him. His prize. She was his. He found her. She belonged to him. Her scent, her touch, made him feel good, comforted. She made him—

A male
.

A sharp pain went through him as he padded out into the lush, wild lands once again. How had it happened? He hadn’t been male for many years. He didn’t want to be male. When he was male, bad things happened.

Yet he needed the woman.

Lifting his head, he inhaled deeply. Once he had her scent in his lungs, he took off toward town.

The baby cried and fussed as she waited for her mother to sit and unhook her nursing bra. Ashe Pascal was obviously well practiced because she had the slip of cotton down and the baby latching on before her backside even hit the leather.

“Boy, was she hungry,” the woman said, relaxing back in the chair and giving Taylor a soft smile.

“She’s beautiful,” Taylor said.

“Thank you. I think so too. But I suppose that’s a mother’s lens I’m seeing her through.” She lowered her chin conspiratorially, a few of her black curls falling about her face. “Some of these Pantera think she’s a crying poop machine.”

Taylor laughed, but the sound was slightly hollow. Granted, she was grateful to be in town, in the lovely Colonial-style house that served as the headquarters for the Pantera’s diplomats. She was going to meet with Raphael—this woman’s mate. It was exactly as she’d wanted it. And yet, all she could think about was Séverin. Whatever the other Hunters had believed, he had been trying to protect her. Seeing him go down that way, a needle in his neck…she’d been so angry at that dark-haired Hunter. Rage. A perfect name. They’d given her the choice of going with them to town or being escorted to the border.

Hadn’t been much of a choice. But all the way into town, she’d vowed to talk to Raphael about Séverin, make sure he was okay. Ask if she could see him again. She owed him.

“So, I hear you’re looking for a place to escape?”

Taylor looked up, realizing she had been deep in thought. “Excuse me?”

“A place to escape?” Ashe’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s not my business.”

Taylor shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. I’m looking for asylum. I’m looking for a place that can keep me safe.”

“Lena mentioned a man…” Ashe pressed gently.

“My ex,” Taylor explained. Maybe she should’ve been shy or embarrassed about the truth. But she wasn’t. It was her truth. She’d fallen for a slick, intelligent, seemingly worldly man who she’d allowed to control her, and ultimately hurt her. But that was over. The shame would be if she let that man break her now—force her to come home. Force her to live in fear.

“I lost my family when I was sixteen,” she started, fidgeting against the brown leather couch she’d been instructed to take a seat on when Parish had led her inside Raphael’s office about fifteen minutes ago. “My brother and my parents, in a car accident.”

Ashe’s brown eyes warmed with sympathy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Taylor assured her. “I did really well, actually. One of my teachers helped me out, let me stay with her and her husband. They were so wonderful, so supportive. I graduated with honors and went to college. I wanted to be a teacher too.” She smiled to herself at the memory. “English lit. I found an incredible middle school, and worked there for three years. Then one night, going home, a car sideswiped me. I was physically fine, but it did something to me mentally. I tried to go back to teaching, but my anxiety was overwhelming. It wasn’t fair to the kids.” Taylor’s eyes came up and connected with the woman before her. “The man who hit me was Edgar, my ex.”

Ashe nodded. “Was it on purpose?”

“No. I don’t think so. But he definitely saw me fall apart and he took advantage of it. He liked me weak.” Taylor cringed, every inch of her feeling not the pain of his hand, but the sickness of humiliation. “I hated me weak.”

“You weren’t weak,” Ashe said with quiet passion. “You know that, right? You had PTSD or something. From the accident. Then you probably felt like he was taking care of you…”

“I started to understand that after about a month. I was getting stronger, and Edgar was growing more insecure. Had to know where I was every second of the day. If I didn’t answer the phone because I was in the bathroom…” She shook her head, disgusted. God, how could she have allowed herself to put up with that for so long? “He’s a finance guy, and worked for this clinic in New Orleans. He would make me hang out there, just so he could keep an eye on me.”

“What a freaking nightmare.”

“It was. When I felt ready to go back to work, he didn’t want me to.” She sat up a little straighter. “But I did it anyway. Started a tutoring business. It was okay at first, but one day I was working with an eighteen-year-old boy on his senior paper. Edgar picked me up afterward and was convinced I’d slept with the boy.” Sickness moved through her. “He told me I wasn’t going anywhere without him ever again. I told him he was wrong about that. It was the first time he put his hands on me.”